


It Really Does Look Black In The Moonlight

by Angel Ascending (angel_in_ink)



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blood, Blow Jobs, Come Marking, M/M, Mild Painplay, Oscar Is Totally Down For A Little Bit Of Pain, Scratching, Talk Of A Consensual Hunter/Prey Scenario
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:40:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23486968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angel_in_ink/pseuds/Angel%20Ascending
Summary: This isn’t the first time Grizzop has come to Oscar in the middle of the night covered in blood after a hunt, though it’s still more of a rarity than a regularity. Oscar shifts slightly in bed, taking in the way Grizzop tracks the movement, the way he trembles. Yes, Oscar can tell it’s going to be one ofthosenights.
Relationships: Grizzop drik Acht Amsterdam/Oscar Wilde
Comments: 15
Kudos: 67





	It Really Does Look Black In The Moonlight

**Author's Note:**

> Something *else* based on [@areyouokaypanda's](http://areyouokaypanda.tumblr.com/) AMAZING [feral!Grizzop art](http://areyouokaypanda.tumblr.com/post/614366761973874688/dont-think-i-ever-posted-this-here-so-here) (warning for blood). Because, you know, sometimes the stars align right and all the proper wires get crossed just so, and then I write smut.
> 
> Any other person who inspired this work knows who they are. They should, at any rate. 
> 
> Bonus points if you know where the title comes from!

It’s been a long time since Oscar Wilde has been able to sleep deeply or well, so when his bedroom door opens he’s awake at the first creak of the hinges, a hum in the back of his throat and one hand halfway through the motion of a spell before his eyes adjust and he sees just who is standing in the doorway, moonlight shining off of goblin eyes, turning them yellow-green. It shines off something else as well, and Oscar doesn’t need the coppery smell to tell him what Grizzop is covered with. The blood looks black in the moonlight.

This isn’t the first time Grizzop has come to Oscar in the middle of the night covered in blood after a hunt, though it’s still more of a rarity than a regularity. Oscar shifts slightly in bed, taking in the way Grizzop tracks the movement, the way he trembles. Yes, Oscar can tell it’s going to be one of _those_ nights.

“Is any of that blood yours?” Oscar asks after he closes the door behind Grizzop with a wave of his hand.

Grizzop doesn’t answer, just growls low in his throat as he starts undoing the clasps of his armor, the metal breastplate clattering to the floor, followed by the rustle of cloth as the rest of his clothes go as well. Grizzop all but launches himself at the bed and then he’s on all fours over Oscar, face split into a snarl or a grin, teeth shiny and sharp. Oscar can see the shape of the Grizzop’s cock in the moonlight, hard and already glistening at the tip. There’s a few smears of blood on the covers, but nothing magic can’t get out later.

Oscar shifts to look Grizzop in the eye and Grizzop growls again, hands going to Oscar’s shoulders, claws pricking through the silk of his pajamas. The little pinpricks of pain set Oscar’s nerves alight in the most delightful of ways, but he ignores the warmth of arousal simmering in his blood. “Grizzop,” Oscar says firmly. “Do you need healing?”

The first time Grizzop had come to him in the night, covered in blood and in need of release, smiling that feral smile and tracking Oscar’s every movement like the man had been a quarry that Grizzop was hunting, the goblin had been practically non-verbal, getting his wants across by head nods and shakes alone. Grizzop had said later that sometimes words were hard when he was ‘taken by the hunt,’ but he had refused to elaborate when Oscar had pressed him for more information. Oscar wasn’t sure if it was one of the mysteries of the Cult of Artemis that Grizzop had let slip, or if it was something more personal than that, but Oscar hadn’t asked about it since.

“No,” Grizzop says, and his claws dig just a little deeper into Oscar’s shoulders. “Just need you,” he says, and his voice shakes with the force of his trembling. His hips move ever so slightly, his erection dragging across Oscar’s chest, and Oscar can feel the faint dampness of precome soak into the fabric.

“No choking,” Wilde reminds him. “No marks above the neck.”

“I _remember_.” The last word is a growl and a whine all at once, a needy sound that goes straight to Oscar’s cock.

“Then I’m yours,” Oscar says, and maybe those are dangerous words to say to a goblin covered in blood, but, well, a little excitement in the bedroom has never done either of them any lasting damage.

Oscar has already come to terms with the fact that his pajamas were probably going to be a casualty, so he doesn’t mourn them when he hears the silk tear under Grizzop’s claws, just gasps at the sting of pain that comes with it, claws trailing down his chest. He sees blood well up from the scratches, dark under the moon, but it’s the way Grizzop reacts to the blood that makes Oscar’s breath speed up, the way Grizzop drags his fingers through it, as if he’s painting Oscar’s skin.

Grizzop is a little more careful with his claws while removing Oscar’s pants, because even though Oscar likes a bit of pain in the bedroom sometimes, nothing kills the mood like an accidental claw to the genitals. The light scratches down his thighs though, well, that’s an entirely different story, and Oscar is more than half hard when Grizzop gets his mouth around Oscar’s cock, being mindful enough to be careful of his teeth.

Oscar groans, throwing his head back and trying very, _very_ hard not to thrust up into Grizzop’s mouth as Grizzop works him over. As impatient as Grizzop can be about some things, he’s usually a bit more restrained when it comes to blowjobs. This though, this is a fast and messy affair, just a precursor to what Grizzop really wants. Oscar doesn’t mind, especially when Grizzop’s hands curl around Oscar’s thighs, claws digging in until Oscar gives a drawn out moan, both his hands curling into fists as he grabs at the sheets. Grizzop lifts his head and grins, crawling up the length of Oscar’s body to lick at the sweat in the hollow of his throat. He lets the points of his teeth just graze Oscar’s skin and Oscar shivers at the threat of something so sharp near his throat, but the shivering is not out of a sense of fear.

“I could track you just from scent alone right now,” Grizzop says as he slides back down Oscar’s body, through the sweat and the blood from Oscar’s numerous scratches. He straddle’s Oscar’s thighs and carefully stroke’s Oscar’s cock, smiling as precome blooms from the tip.

“Could you now?” Oscar asks. Thrusting upward into Grizzop’s hand earns him a growl and the sharp pain of claws digging into his hip, just like he had known it would. He feels more precome leaking from him, the slick slide of Grizzop’s hand suddenly easier.

“Yessss,” Grizzop hisses, and then he’s positioning himself over Oscar’s cock, slowly working it inside of himself. Oscar stays as still as he can, breathing heavily as he lets Grizzop set his own pace, reveling in the feeling of warm flesh slowly settling around his cock, until Grizzop is fully seated. Even then Oscar does not move, just waits as Grizzop adjusts to the stretch of him.

“Have you thought about hunting me, Grizzop?” Oscar asks, and Grizzop groans and begins to move. It’s the kind of thing you say during sex and maybe have an awkward conversation about later, but Oscar doesn’t regret it when he sees Grizzop’s dick twitch at his words.

“Dreams— sometimes. Running under— under the moonlight,” Grizzop gasps as he rides Oscar. “Tracking— the smell of— your blood. Your sweat. Your need.”

Ahhh, Oscar sees where this little fantasy is going. He begins moving his hips, pausing when he feels Grizzop’s claws dig into his side. “Too much?”

The claws press just a little harder as Grizzop shakes his head. “Keep going.” Grizzop takes himself in hand, stroking furiously. “Don’t— don’t stop talking either.”

Oscar can’t help but grin, and he doesn’t have to try and pitch his voice lower, turn it more sultry, it’s as natural as breathing as the smell of sex and blood permeate the air. Even in bed he’s a performer, giving his lover what he wants. Not that the scenario isn’t appealing, far from it. “Do you imagine me running from you? Stumbling through a forest, maybe?” Oscar can picture it so clearly in his mind, like a scene from a particular brand of romance novel.

“You’d try so hard to get away,” Grizzop moans, his hand making slick noises as he rocks against Oscar. “But I’d find you.”

“I’d want to be found,” Oscar breathes, thrusting quickly, shallowly, the way Grizzop likes. He’s not going to last much longer, but he’s determined to make Grizzop come first. “I’d let you catch me.”

“Catch you,” Grizzop gasps out, moving faster, his ears twitching in that way that Oscar knows means he’s close. “Catch you— bring you down— claim—!” Grizzop throws his head back as he comes, the sound almost a howl. Between that sound of pleasure and the sight of Grizzop’s release on his skin, the moonlight turning it silver the same way it turns blood black, Oscar finds himself crying out with his own orgasm, the sound mixing with Grizzop’s to create something that’s almost a song.

Grizzop stops moving, head bowed, breathing hard, his hands braced against Oscar’s chest. “Oh…. Oh that was…” He looks up at Oscar and smiles, and while his smile is as sharp as ever, it’s no longer a feral grin. “I didn’t hurt you too bad, did I?”

Oscar shifts a little, wincing a bit with oversensitivity as his softening cock slips out of Grizzop. “Just the right amount, I think." He reaches up, stroking the curve of Grizzop’s ear. Grizzop gives a little huff of a chuckle as he flicks his ear of of Oscar’s reach. “Need to go again?” Sometimes Grizzop does, Oscar knows, and he remembers once when Grizzop had ridden his fingers until dawn, until all the energy had been fucked out of him.

“I think I’m good for the moment,” Grizzop says, and he pats Oscar on the hip as he climbs off of him. “Be right back. All this drying blood is making me itch.”

Grizzop doesn’t like to be prestidigitated clean when there’s someone else’s blood on his skin, preferring to wash it off himself. Oscar assumes this has something to do with his god and doesn’t bother to question it, just like he doesn’t ask _whose_ blood it is. By the time Grizzop comes back, Oscar has prestidigitated himself and the sheets clean and has tossed his utterly destroyed pajamas over the side of the bed to be dealt with in the morning.

“Want me to heal those for you?” Grizzop asks, gesturing to the various claw marks that Oscar is littered with, but Oscar shakes his head.

“They’ve already stopped bleeding,” Oscar says. “I’d like to keep them until morning at least. The sting is… nice.”

Grizzop chuckles and gives Oscar a quick kiss on the lips before climbing in to bed. “Kinky.”

“Says the goblin who has fantasies about hunting me in the moonlight,” Oscar says as he puts an arm around Grizzop.

“Well, I mean…” Grizzop says. “Hunting and sex… sometimes things tangle up with other things.”

“I wasn’t _complaining_ ,” Oscar clarifies. “I mean, if you wanted, we could find a nice isolated patch of forest, do a little role-play some night.”

Grizzop goes very still in Oscar’s arms. “Do you mean that? I know you’re more of the ‘soft bed and pillows’ type.”

“I resent that,” Oscar says with a grin. ‘What about that time in the supply closet? And all those times on the desk? And—“

“You’re an _indoor_ type,” Grizzop says, but Oscar hears him smiling when he says it. “The outdoors has branches and rocks and occasional hedgehogs.”

“I’ll try anything once,” Oscar says. “Tell me you’re not imagining me on the ground, disheveled, moonlight gleaming off of—“ He cuts off with a hiss as Grizzop squirms against him, the cuts on his chest aching exquisitely.

“Just can’t stop talking, can you?” Grizzop says as he turns in Oscar’s arms, his smile as bright and sharp as the moon outside. Grizzop is hard again, a testament to goblin stamina. “Want something else to do with your mouth?”

Oscar takes in the sight of his lover bathed in the moonlight and smiles. He’s not in the habit of thanking gods for anything, but if he was, he’d thank Artemis for the way the moonlight shines off Grizzop’s skin, clean of blood or not. “I could be persuaded.”

**Author's Note:**

> I’m [angel-ascending](http://angel-ascending.tumblr.com) over on Tumblr and [angel_in_ink](http://twitter.com/angel_in_ink) over on Twitter if y’all want to stop by and say hi!


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